


Prologue

by unofficialsherlockian



Series: Genesis [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Gen, Sherlock in America, pre-John
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-04
Updated: 2013-11-04
Packaged: 2017-12-31 11:03:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 916
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1030942
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unofficialsherlockian/pseuds/unofficialsherlockian





	Prologue

The rooftops were still very far apart, further than he was used to when he ran across the ones back in London. Of course, he was still able to jump the gaps, but there had been some near misses on the first few nights he'd tried. Today, however, was the real thing. And he hadn't faltered once.

The man ahead of Sherlock screamed as he missed the next jump, his fingertips just barely latching onto the edge of the roof. 'Help!' 

Sherlock vaulted across, bending his knees as he landed on the other side to absorb the impact, and then straightened up, turning around to face the dangling man.

'Help me!' the man cried desperately.

'Sorry,' Sherlock said friendly, 'but I did never get your name in all that running.'

'Are you insane?' the man gasped, a look of horror on his face. Sherlock spared him a glare. 'F-fine. Dillon Newell.'

Sherlock gave a crooked condescending smile. 'Well, Dillon Newell, I just don't know. You did rob a house.'

'You can't prove that!' Newell spat. 'No one saw.'

'Ah yes. With your clever way of entering the house through the ceiling tiles. The loose, old attic window gave you away.' Sherlock smirked. 'That and the rather obvious fact that their six-year old daughter heard you when you came through the ceiling in the room next to hers.'

'No one would believe what I little girl thinks she saw in the middle of the night,' Newell scoffed.

'But I did,' Sherlock said, cutting off Newell. 'She saw you, was able to recognise you on a police database. Not your first robbery, was it?'

'You're the police?' Newell sounded hopeful. 'Then you won't let me fall.'

Sherlock shook his head. 'But you see, I'm not the police. Just a man. An ordinary man.' He spat out the words. 'And any _ordinary_ man would simply let you fall.'

'Please!' The man said desperately. 'Please'

'But of course, we do have to consider the fact that ordinary men do not consider me to be among their ranks.' Sherlock shifted slightly, putting his hands in his pockets. 'So I will think differently. Your crimes do not merit your death--even the bloody law would agree with that. Justice would say I should let you up. Besides, there is something to be said for the fact that you haven't fallen already.'

The man took Sherlock's hand gratefully and Sherlock pulled him up. Then he turned away, pulling out his mobile and dialing a number. 'Police? Yeah...it's-' he gave the address. 'There's been a disturbance on the rooftop. Thank you.' He hung up.

'I...thought--you made it sound like you hated the police,' the man said nervously.

'Yes, but I have to live with them. Someone has to do the paperwork, and my handwriting's terrible.' Sherlock sighed. 'Tell them Sherlock Holmes sends his best.'

'Wait, you're...leaving?'

'Yes.' Sherlock gave him a brief smirk. 'You see, I have to be somewhere in two hours. Unfortunately, I didn't come to America only to chase down fleeing men via rooftop.' He turned away.

'I'm I'm just going to stick around up here to give the police your name?'

'Yes, I think you are.' Sherlock looked at him intently. 'Don't forget it--Sherlock Holmes. Head trauma can make you forget things.'

'I don't have head trauma, _Sherlock Holmes_ ,' Newell spat, shaking his head. 'You trust me to stay up here?' He was smiling slightly now.

'Nope.' And Sherlock landed a blow, hard, on the side of Newell's head.

The man dropped, unconscious, and Sherlock smiled. He sat down on the ledge next to the limp man and lit a cigarette. It was a while that he sat up there smoking before he spotted the police car pulling up to the building and two police men get out.

Sherlock waited for a minute more and then stood, flicking his cigarette away. Then he hurried down to the stairwell and started rushing down, bumping into the policemen as they were coming up.

'Oh thank God,' Sherlock said, adapting an American accent and a falsely breathless voice. 'There were two men on the roof--fighting.'

'Roof?'

'Thanks, kid.'

They went off and Sherlock continued down, grinning. 

'Are you okay?' one to the police asked Newell as the man sat up.

'I just--where did he go?'

'Who?'

'Sherlock Holmes. Knocked me out. Figured out that I robbed the hou--' Newell swore. 'Shit.'

'You robbed the--hang on. Sherlock Holmes? That kidchased you down, that was Sherlock Holmes?'

The other officer looked at him. You don't mean the kid that Davids was complaining about?'

'It was you then?'

'Wow, Sherlock Holmes did solve it.'

The other radioed in. 'Sir, remember that kid? Sherlock Holmes? Well, he solved the case--yeah, got him right here. Holmes? Holmes took off--we passed him on the stairs.'

From the radio came a loud and angry voice. 'Who is this Sherlock Holmes?'

 

Miles away, a few minutes later, Sherlock Holmes was siting back on the hotel sofa, trembling slightly. He knew it was bad to be taking some now--he had an hour until he had to leave--but the high from the chase was coming down. Fast. He couldn't drop back down. Not right now.

He drummed his fingers on the side of the sofa as he took up the syringe with his other hand. Then his eyes closed as he put the needle in and pushed the plunger down.


End file.
